Kid just loves him some cows (komos) wrote,
Kid just loves him some cows

  • Mood:

Divine wind

I’m having trouble breathing today. I first noticed when I was in the process of getting my shoes on, so at first I thought that it might have something to do with my well developed Buddha belly nature. I was all ready to accept my struggle with shoes as yet more evidence that I need to get back to a more intensive exercise regimen, but then I left the house and started walking. By the end of my street I realized that I was moving SLOWLY, and as I started up the hill to cross from the Mystic watershed to that of the Charles, it felt like someone had wrapped rubber bands around my chest. I was working against my own body in order to get it enough oxygen to keep functioning. Deep breaths hurt.

I don’t like not being able to breathe. There’s a panicky desperation that comes with every breath. The lizard-mind that lurks at the base of my skull is making the system work. I can feel it. Sweet, cool, life-giving air sweeps in through my lips and past my teeth, but for some reason, it’s given nowhere to go. There’s a brief draught, followed by the blow of the waste gasses from my system (How can there be so much more?), and then it begins again. The system is working! I can feel the steady rhythm of the muscles in my chest. Why won’t you draw oxygen in?

So this morning was one of those rare occasions that I fumbled with the front pocket of my messenger bag until I found the Ventolin inhaler I keep there for emergencies. Stop. Stand straight. Take a few deep breaths as best I can and then blow everything out. Draw again, this time with a squeeze on the inhaler. I suck in the bitter, metallic medicine. Breathe out, trying to avoid twisting my face in disgust at the taste of the spent dose.

Rinse. Repeat. The second hit tastes worse, probably because I’m able to breathe more of it in.

Better now. We’ll see how long it lasts.

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